


Smoke Signals

by Hazelmist



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Post-Season/Series 03, Slow Burn, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-01-12 11:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18445739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazelmist/pseuds/Hazelmist
Summary: Ellie catches Hardy red-handed with a cigarette and suddenly there's an unexpected spark between them.





	1. Spring

It had been over a decade since Alec Hardy last lit a cigarette and over two since he’d quit smoking for Tess, but the craving faithfully flared up with every bad case. 

Today, his fingers itched worse than ever. When their misogynist suspect hadn’t quit sneering at Miller or fiddling with that packet of Marlboros, he’d confiscated it. The interrogation had been a bust and the arsehole had run out of there so fast that no one had noticed Hardy slip the box into his pocket. Hardy hadn’t even been fully conscious of the action until he’d stepped out for some air and found the cigarettes instead of the Aspirin he needed to relieve his splitting headache.

Hardy didn't even like Marlboros but a bystander misread his hesitation and generously offered him a lighter. The man lit his cigarette and then ambled off down toward the docks with his own, leaving Hardy to take his first drag in the shadow of the station house. 

God, he’d missed this. 

He wondered how it was possible for a cigarette full of toxins to feel like a breath of fresh air. For a moment he was decades younger and his nerves smoothed out, his muscles relaxing as he focused on nothing but the air leaving his lungs and the smoke curling before him. 

He inhaled the chemicals and released them again. As always his mind inevitably drifted to Daisy and Tess, but it didn't linger, instead skipping past her and settling upon the case and the incident in the interrogation room earlier. He could still see the bastard leering at Miller. He didn't remember the exact words he’d said to her but the sexual implications were made abundantly clear. 

Hardy's hand trembled and he took another long drag on the cigarette to quell the little tremors of his temper. Miller was more than capable of handling herself and hadn't given the man the luxury of her attention, but Hardy remembered the muscle twitching in her jaw, her brittle smile, the forced pitch of her voice, and the way her eyes _blazed_. He would’ve liked to have let her loose on that misogynist pig, but instead he’d lost his own temper and been forced to release the man. Inappropriate comments and leering weren't enough reason to arrest someone but damn it Hardy wished it was. Hardy’s ears had burned long after the interrogation was over and he’d had trouble looking her in the eye, because he hadn't been able to do more to prevent that kind of disgusting behavior. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened to a female colleague and sadly it wasn't even the worst he’d overheard, but this time it burned him in a way it hadn't before. 

Puffing on the cigarette, he stewed in silence as the anger slowly gave way to something else that itched at him like the craving for a cigarette. His mind was still fixated on Miller, and the creeping realization that she was absorbing more and more of his attention. He didn't think of Tess quite so often, and Zoe had been easily sacrificed for his commitment to his job and his partner…

Frowning, he pulled on the cigarette but his partner stayed firmly in his thoughts. Miller was… Well… With the exception of Daisy she was really the only person he honestly cared about in this town. He told Daisy he’d come back because this town needed him and he knew his own bleeding heart, but Miller was something else. He spent almost every day with her and he relied upon her, but it was more than the co-dependence and intense respect that had fostered a relationship between him and Tess, and then of course there was the lack of sexual attraction. 

The man’s words resounded in his ears and the knowing glance he’d given Hardy, as if he’d known that it might have been the furthest thing from his mind at that moment but it definitely _had_ crossed his mind once … Or twice … or every so often or oh, _hell_. 

_Fuck_.

He was attracted to Miller. 

Hardy buried his face in his hands, narrowly avoiding singeing his hair.

He wanted to sleep with Miller, but not for the reasons the man had implied. There was a difference. It burned him that man with a few choice words had objectified her when she was so much more than that and she deserved more than any man could give her. 

Hardy had known since the moment it first crossed his mind that he wasn't worthy of her and he’d buried the thoughts deep in his subconscious. But today the man’s comments had churned up those sentiments and it shamed him that it had come down to this. Miller was better than him and he appreciated and respected her as a woman and as an individual. He wouldn't act upon some stirring baser instinct, even if it was painfully obvious that this wasn't about sex, far from it. She’d been there for him when he was dying, it would've been impossible not to fall for her.

“Shit.” Hardy pressed the shaking cigarette to his lips and immediately coughed up his next inhale.

“You alright?” 

Hardy nodded and choked again upon finding Miller perched on the step beside him. Her eyes narrowed in on the cigarette before Hardy could hide it from her. 

“I knew it,” Miller said, shaking her head. He was expecting a scolding, but Miller’s silent presence unnerved him. 

Taking another restless pull on the cigarette, he blew smoke in the opposite direction. It didn’t do any good as the wind brought the poison right back to them. 

“How long’s it been?” Miller asked, startling him. He shrugged, it wasn’t important anymore. 

“You’re not planning on making this a habit, are you?” The smoke swirled between them but Miller barely blinked. Hardy tried to hide behind the veil, but Miller always saw right through him.

“He shouldn’t have been allowed to say those things to you.” He dropped his eyes to the cigarette and snuffed it out on the concrete. 

“I could’ve handled him,” she reminded him. “’sides,” she smiled and stretched out her legs in front of her, “It was kind of nice to be hit on, made me feel young again.” It was a joke, but it left a bad taste in their mouths. Hardy violently brought his heel down on the smoking butt, leaving a cigarette burn on the steps. 

“Is Daisy in trouble again?” Miller inquired gently and Alec shook his head. “You know I meant it, if you need me to talk to her…” she tapered off as Alec assured her again that it wasn’t Daisy. 

“Then what’s bothering you?” Miller pushed and Hardy wished he could smoke the rest of the pack. “No, don’t do that,” she stayed him with a hand on his arm, “You blew that interview.”

“Millah, he was way out of line!” 

“I get it, Hardy, he was a disgusting misogynist prick, but you can usually keep it together for the sake of an investigation.” She looked up at him searchingly. “So, tell me what’s eating you before you cock up the next one.”

“’m bloody sick and tired of men like him,” he snarled. “The way he was talking to you wasn’t right.” He smacked the packet of cigarettes against the step next to him. “I wanted to arrest him just for looking at you like that,” he growled, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I did too,” Miller agreed, “but if I went around arresting every man who leered at women, we’d be wasting our time and resources and the cells would be overcrowded.” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but her eyes were serious as she asked, “Was it because he implied that you’d like to shag me too?”

“Dunno,” Hardy croaked and cleared his throat, “Maybe.”

Miller’s eyebrows lifted and the amusement left her face to be replaced with something alarmingly like disappointment. 

“Not because I wouldn’t,” he tried to explain, “because you know you’re…” He fumbled for an appropriate word, and cleared his throat again as Miller’s eyebrows came together in a frown. “I’m your boss, but if I wasn’t, if we were those people,” he stuttered to a halt. Blimey he was mucking this up. “I mean loads of men they would…” He made a vague motion with his hand, digging himself in deeper. It took Miller a minute to muddle through it.

“So you’re saying that if we didn’t work together, you’d want to shag me?” 

“Well, yeah,” he admitted, tugging at his ear and then he panicked. “Not just for a one-off,” he backtracked and mollified, “You’re the type of woman who I’d… want to go to the pub with for drinks.”

“You don’t do the pub,” Miller reminded him, frowning. Hardy dragged a hand through his hair. 

“You’re missing the point.”

“I’ve never seen you go into the pub.”

“Not here,” he acknowledged. “This is a small stupid town and I can’t even walk into work with you without someone assuming we’re having an affair,” he spat and kicked the packet down the steps. “Can you imagine what they’d say if we had a drink together?” Scoffing, he stared out over the road and the wee harbor beyond it. 

A group of idiots had strung up fairy lights on their docked boats and the whole harbor seemed to sparkle and shimmer with their reflection. It was ridiculous. If it wasn’t for the woman next to him he never would’ve came back to this god forsaken town.

“Would it be so bad if someone thought we were together?” Miller asked softly and Hardy’s heart skipped a beat. He clasped his shaking hands together and tried to focus on the lights beyond them. 

“I’m your boss,” he pointed out carefully.

“So?” Miller hedged and Hardy wondered when she’d gotten so close to him, why she was always so bloody close to him. 

“I was married to my DS,” he reminded her bitterly, “It didn’t end well, but even before that, people talked.” He wet his lips and swallowed hard. “They treated Tess differently. She had to work harder to prove that she hadn’t got to where she was because of me.” He ducked his head, scratching at a freckle on his wrist. “You’re already up against so much. I didn’t want to make it any harder.”

Miller was sizing him up, deconstructing everything he’d said. But Miller wasn’t stupid, she’d heard the sentiment that lay between the words and was considering carefully what to do about it. His heart thudded away in his chest as he waited. Finally, she spoke.

“I appreciate it. But I don’t give a fuck about what anyone thinks,” she told him bluntly. “I get the job done, we’re good at what we do, and I don’t have to prove anything to anyone.” She stubbornly held his gaze, and Hardy realized that his weak bleeding heart had never stood a chance.

“If you really want to keep it strictly professional, I’ll understand. I respect that and I won’t even bring it up again,” she offered generously. “But…” She looked up at Hardy and he saw a flicker of hope. “If you change your mind… we could maybe go for a drink.” 

“Alright,” he agreed before he could talk himself out of it. Miller blinked and then she smiled. Her smile had an odd effect on him, his face felt warm, warm enough that he had to turn away and rub at the back of his burning neck. He spotted the cigarettes on the steps below them, but Miller got to the packet before him. 

“If I let you smoke another one, will you come with me to the pub for one?” she bargained with him. 

“Aye.” Hardy shrugged and she tossed them back to him. He caught the carton and tapped it against his open palm.

“Do you have a lighter?” 

Miller’s disappointment was almost enough to stave off the craving. Sighing, he reluctantly let go of his bad habit, dropping the cigarettes into the rubbish bin behind him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rejoined her on the steps. 

“Don’t tell Daisy,” he said and her eyes softened.

“Don’t do it again,” she warned him, pointing a finger at him. He rolled his eyes, until he felt a little tug and a light tap on his chest. “We’d like you to stick around for a bit.”

Hardy’s breath hitched as she looked up at him through her lashes. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her.

“Good.” Miller smiled.

Hardy touched her arm and gently steered her down the steps. They walked past the harbor and down to the local pub with Miller chatting and casually engaging him with the occasional question related to work or Daisy. Hardy’s heart sped up when their newest PC greeted them cheerily from the entrance, announcing that more than half the stationhouse had the same idea as them. He must’ve seen the chagrin on Hardy’s face, before hastily ducking back inside to warn the others and start the rumors about them. Miller waved to a blurry face that appeared at the fogged window, but instead of dragging him inside, she walked past the pub. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I’m knackered, don’t really fancy a drink with all my colleagues right now,” Miller said, wrinkling her nose. She hugged herself against the cold and quickly retreated to the opposite side of the road. Hardy was too relieved to be frustrated or puzzled by her sudden change of mind. But as they passed the harbor again, the loaded silence became too much for him to bear. 

“We could have a drink at mine,” he suggested. 

Miller’s head snapped up and Hardy feared he’d made a mistake. 

“Okay,” she said, shrugging with the same indifference he’d tried for earlier. They walked the short distance to his house, and Hardy’s panic mounted as he frantically tried to remember if he had any alcohol or if he’d dumped it all after the latest trouble with Daisy. 

“You can sit,” he told her awkwardly after unlocking the door and shedding his coat. Hunting through the cabinets, he tried to remember what he did with that bottle of red wine Zoe had left months ago, or that rarely used bottle of Scotch that had been kept in lieu of a cigarette after a very bad day. 

“Your ice box is empty,” Miller pointed out, coming up behind him as he knelt under the sink. 

“I’ve been busy,” he reminded her with a little growl when his search came up empty. Damn, Daisy must’ve taken the Scotch too last month and he hadn’t even noticed. Rising to his feet, he wiped the dust from his trousers. Miller took one look at him and rolled her eyes. 

“Unbelievable,” she scoffed and folded her arms over her chest. “What kind of man invites a woman back to his place for a nightcap and then has nothing to offer?” 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s been a rough week, a really rough couple of weeks.” 

“I know.”

Hardy stole a glance at her and was surprised to find nothing but understanding in her warm gaze. She unfolded her arms and hesitantly stepped closer to him. 

“I’ll take a raincheck for that drink,” she said, letting him off the hook. 

Nodding, he braced himself against the counter and studied the swirling pattern of the faux marble. He should’ve known he’d muck up his one shot with her. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he asked, without looking up from the crusty stain he’d discovered. An idea occurred to him and he added, “Unless you want…”

“Yes.”

Alec stood up straight, startled to find her right in front of him. 

“Tea?” he asked stupidly, but there was a different kind of thirst in her eyes. 

“No, ta.” She shook her head and removed the clip from her hair. Hardy watched fascinated as the thick waves fell past her shoulders and caressed the creamy expansive of skin visible in the scooped neck of her blouse. “I didn’t come here for a cuppa-”

“Water?” he interrupted her, yanking on the knot of his tie as he struggled to think straight. “Erm I might have some of those biscuits you left the last time, probably stale…” He flung open a cupboard and Miller slammed it shut, nearly taking his fingers with it. 

“Quit it before you annoy me again and I change my mind,” she snapped.

“Change your mind?” he sputtered. “You’re the one who said no to the pub.”

“It wasn’t about the pub, you knob!”

Hardy arched a brow, propping his hands on his hips.

“I was trying to – God, you’re so bloody dense!” She reached up and grabbed hold of the blasted noose around his neck, pulling his head down to hers. Hardy was forced to hold very still as she deftly unknotted his tie and slid the silk free from his collar. 

“I haven’t done this in a long time…” Miller trailed off, folding the tie on the counter beside them. “At least not with someone I know and actually like…” she admitted shyly.

“Sometimes,” he corrected her, and Miller flashed him a pale smile. He touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers and she took a deep breath. 

“How long have you thought about sleeping with me?”

Hardy bit down on his lip, but he’d already damned himself earlier. 

“I don’t know,” he confessed. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment because there wasn’t one. “Maybe when we were solving Sandbrook and we were both so bloody lonely, or maybe it was afterwards, when I missed you.”

“You missed me?” Miller laid one of her hands on his chest and his heart beat harder. 

“Why do you think I came back?” 

He held his breath as she searched his face with those wide brown eyes. She must have been satisfied with what she found there, because her hand moved from his chest to the nape of his neck, urging him down again until their mouths met.

Hardy let her get used to the feel and taste of his lips on hers, until she gradually grew more bold in her exploration of his mouth and her fingers sunk into his hair. He took that as permission to sweep her into his arms and explore the curves she’d been hiding beneath far too many layers. 

Hardy was patient and attentive, listening for the changes in her breathing and using the tugs on his hair as a guide. He smirked at the moan she tried to suppress when he sat her on the counter and slowly kissed his way down her neck to that creamy expanse of skin. Ellie squirmed and helpfully unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a bra that couldn’t quite contain the perfect swells of her breasts. Hardy almost groaned at the sight of them. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, and he thought she was too, judging from her sounds of approval and the fingernails lightly raking over his shoulder blades. But her hand suddenly twisted in his hair and then abruptly shoved him off of her. 

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, her eyes shiny with lust and to his horror tears. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, “I didn’t mean to-“

“I don’t know what came over me,” she sniffled and wiped the tear tracks from her face. Hardy opened his mouth and she gave him an apologetic watery smile. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

Hardy gaped at her, but quickly collected his jaw. 

“It’s not you, Hardy, I’m just not…” She looked up at him pleadingly and he finished her sentence. 

“You’re not ready.” Almost four years had passed since Joe committed a murder and broke up a “happy” marriage, but while she’d teased him relentlessly about Zoe and whatever the second girl’s name had been, Hardy hadn’t heard Miller express much interest in dating. 

“We can go slow…” he suggested hesitantly, but fresh tears welled up in Miller’s big brown eyes. “Or we could pretend that this never happened,” he offered instead, and a strangled sob escaped her before she cupped a hand over her mouth. 

Hardy had no bloody idea what to do. He wanted to comfort her, but up until tonight she’d been averse to his touch. It wasn’t helping that she was crying possibly because of how he felt about her and how he’d kissed her. He belatedly realized that Ellie had been deliberately vague about her own feelings. So he handed her a tea towel to mop up her face and put the kettle on. He made the tea too strong, but a few sips fortified him, and the heat between her hands seemed to soothe her. 

“I made a mistake.”

“It’s okay, Miller,” he reassured her, even though his heart was breaking. “We can forget about it.” 

They sat in his kitchen for another five minutes of unbearable silence before Miller set her tea aside and slid down from the counter to use the loo. Hardy wished he could time travel and prevent himself from opening up to her or inviting her back to his place. Even if they never spoke of this again, Hardy knew he’d fucked up everything and they’d ever be able to go back to the way things were before. 

Miller returned with her hair tied up and just a smidge of puffiness around her eyes to suggest she’d been crying. 

“I’m gonna head home,” she said softly, and Hardy almost knocked his chair over in his haste to walk her to the door. He wasn’t stupid enough to see her home, but he asked her to text him once she was back at the house safely. 

“This isn’t going to change anything, I still want that drink at the pub,” she said as she shrugged into that bright orange monstrosity that she refused to replace. 

“As long as you don’t tell Daisy about the cigarettes,” he volleyed back, stepping out onto the deck with her. 

“I meant it, you know, about you sticking around,” she said seriously, and Hardy knew that she did mean it. Maybe she didn’t fancy him, not yet, maybe not ever, but she did care about him. What happened tonight wouldn’t shake that, Hardy was certain of it. He’d try his best to put his less than platonic feelings behind him. 

“’m staying right here,” he assured her and held her gaze steadily. 

Ellie threw her arms around him and Hardy wondered if this was going to be something they were going to do from now on, or if this was a onetime hug because she felt sorry for him. 

“Thank you,” Ellie whispered in his ear and pecked him on the cheek. 

Hardy nodded and let her go. He watched her walk away until he couldn’t see the spot of neon in the moonlight. And he stayed out there listening to wind rustling in the neighbor’s blossoming garden until his eyes were dry and the moon was high in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever since Hardy revealed he used to be a smoker I could not get that image out of my head. Once I started it, I couldn’t stop. I pretty much have this fic done, and it’ll be told with hopefully less than 20k words and in four parts (one for each season). It’s kind of a slow burn, and a definite OOC interpretation of Hardy and Ellie’s individual backgrounds and budding relationship.


	2. Rain and Whiskey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger: mentions of past child abuse, grave condition of a minor character, alcohol, cigarettes**

The first week back at work was awkward, the second was worse, and the third was almost unbearable. They couldn’t avoid each other, but Hardy tip-toed around her, taking his cues from her. Ellie overcompensated to keep things normal and Hardy actually tried to be _polite_. It might’ve been amusing, if Hardy hadn’t been watching her all the bloody time with those stupid cow eyes. It was unsettling how his eyes could follow her out of a room and sometimes into her dreams.

When Hardy had resurfaced in Broadchurch after three years of silence, Ellie had wondered what had brought him back. Months later, Ellie finally had an answer that she should’ve figured out the second she found him sitting on her desk. It had been so obvious, but Ellie had enjoyed teasing him about Tinder and Zoe and had ignored the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. The night she’d caught him indulging in a vice he’d sworn off for decades had shattered her resolve and opened her eyes. Hardy had snuffed out the cigarette, but for the first time Ellie had felt the sparks burning in the air between them. 

Hardy had feelings for her and Ellie had ached to reciprocate them. She’d sought an end to the loneliness that plagued her, especially on those sleepless nights in a cold and empty bed. Hardy had been warm and familiar, but the panic attack had struck at the worst possible moment. It was a cruel reminder that Ellie was irreparably broken in a way that Hardy couldn’t understand. She’d made an impulsive mistake, risking the platonic and professional relationships they’d both relied upon when everything else had fallen apart. Ellie prayed that Hardy could forgive her and that they could go back to the way things were before the kiss. 

Three weeks and six days after the kiss they never mentioned, Hardy bought her fish and chips from her favourite chippie and Ellie snapped. 

“What’s this?” 

Occasionally one of them would pick up takeaway or bring in coffee or tea, but Hardy only remembered caffeine and Ellie dumped food on his desk she either forced him to eat or finished for him. 

“It was the only place that was open,” he lied and hung up his wet coat. 

“You didn’t get yourself anything,” she pointed out. 

“I ate in the car,” he fibbed with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

Slicking back his damp hair, he took his seat and powered up his computer. Ellie unwrapped the fish on the desk, anticipating his wrinkled nose. She wiped grease on her trousers, and when that didn’t get a rise out of him, she left greasy fingerprints all over the report he was currently compiling. Hardy scowled at the computer screen but said nothing. 

Ellie shut the door to his office, and he immediately glanced up from the computer. 

“Stop it.” 

“Stop what?” 

“Whatever this is.” She picked up the fish and threw it at him. Chips and fried bits of haddock spilled over his keyboard. “You need to knock it off.” 

“I’m not doing anything,” he protested. 

“Hardy you hate the smell of fried fish and you walked in the rain to my favourite chippie to get me some.”

Hardy tugged at a suspiciously pink earlobe and shrugged the other shoulder. 

“I need you to work overtime this weekend. Thought some bribery-”

“That’s bullshit,” Ellie interrupted him, slamming her hands down on the desk. “You’ve been acting weird ever since-” Fortunately, a rap on the door prevented her from mentioning the taboo kiss in front of their desk sergeant. 

“Ellie, you’ve got a call on line two.” 

Irene’s interruption and lack of a smile said everything. 

Heart in her throat, Ellie reached over Hardy for the desk phone. She perched among the files and crumbs, one of her knees nervously jiggling against his, until Hardy covered it with his hand. He tried to get up, and Ellie pushed him back into his chair as the voice on the other end of the line informed her that she was a nurse at Saint Anselm’s Hospital. 

“ _Ellie Miller, you’re listed as an emergency contact for David Barrett._ ” 

“Yes, he’s my father. What’s happened to him?”

Her dad had collapsed at the market earlier and was still unresponsive. Ellie thanked god that this was Fred’s day with the child minder, and frantically asked if her father was going to be alright.

“ _We think he had a massive stroke._ ” At the word _stroke_ , Ellie dug her fingernails into Hardy’s shoulder. Her Mum had just died from stroke complications following a surgery. Hardy brought her back to the present, squeezing her kneecap. “ _…started him on a blood thinner and we have a CT scan scheduled within the hour_.” The nurse answered some of her questions, and promised to keep her updated. Hardy scribbled down the details for her, and Ellie told the nurse she’d be there within the hour. 

“Where’s Fred?” Hardy asked as soon as she hung up.

“Fred’s at the child minder today, Noreen can drop him off later. Tom should be home by then.” 

Ellie grabbed her stuff from her desk. Hardy had joined her by the time she’d texted Beth, Tom and Noreen. 

“Shit, I forgot Beth had to pick up Lizzie from Mark’s and Chloe’s still in Cardiff. Noreen can hold Fred for a bit, but she can’t keep him overnight.” 

“I’ll send Daiz over later and she can get Fred from the minder if you text one of us the address,” he offered as they rode the lift down to the car park. 

“She won’t have to if Tom will pick up his _fucking_ mobile,” Ellie swore and left another message for Tom. She rifled through her purse with the phone jammed between her chin and shoulder, but her keys only seemed to disappear when she desperately needed them. 

“Here.” Hardy took the pocketbook from her and tipped it over, shaking it until her keys fell out. 

“What is wrong with you?” she snapped. 

“Is there anything you don’t keep in here? I think these granola bars expired in 2010.”

Retrieving her keys from the asphalt, he swept everything back into her pocket book and unlocked the car for her. 

“No, you’re not driving me.”

“ _Millah_.” 

“You drive like an old man!” Ellie accused him. 

“Quit being stubborn and get in the car,” he barked, opening the passenger side door for her. “You have to call your sister and nephew too,” he reminded her, “And I’d rather drive than text them for you.” 

“I don’t need you to come with me,” she argued. 

“I know, but we don’t have time to wait for your hands to stop shaking.” 

Ellie looked down. He was right, she wasn’t fit to drive. A part of her mind was already processing what the rest of her brain wasn’t, and her body had betrayed her fears. Reluctantly, she climbed into the car and Hardy slid into the driver’s seat next to her.

Hardy was right about her family too. It took the better part of the drive for her to reach everyone and explain what she knew about her father’s condition. With each person she spoke to, the more real the situation became for her. Ellie’s fears grew as the worst case scenario presented itself less than two years after she’d lost her mother. 

Hardy drove well over the speed limit, but they hit construction traffic on the motorway at rush hour. 

“We’re almost there,” he assured her, reaching over the console to pat her hand. And then almost as an afterthought, he added, “It’ll be okay.”

“He just had a massive stroke!” Ellie slapped his hand away. 

“It’s what people say,” he groaned.

“You don’t,” she snapped. “You don’t even like my father.” 

“For God’s sake, Miller, I’m _trying_ …” Breaking off with a sigh, he propped an elbow on the car door and thrust his fingers into his hair. 

The clouds opened up overhead and it down-poured. Traffic slowed to a complete stop, because somehow there were still people in Britain who didn’t know how to drive in the rain. The Satnav updated their ETA with another fifteen minute delay before Hardy switched it off. They’d shut off the radio when she broke the news to Tom, and the only sounds were the steady stream of rain and the swish of the wipers.

Hardy stole another concerned glance at her as if she was a ticking time bomb, seconds from blowing.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she sniped at him. 

“Like what?” 

“Like you actually _care_.” She realized how daft she sounded, but Hardy was already running with it before she could back-peddle. 

“So, since _you_ kissed _me_ ,” he reminded her, “I’m not allowed to get takeaway, I can’t talk to you, I can’t look at you, and I can’t care about you,” he spat and she flinched. “Was there anything I missed, maybe a rule book you forgot to tell me about?” he snarled, glowering at the line of red brake lights ahead of them.

Tears pricked at her eyes and she fought them back along with everything else that she’d been holding in for the last three weeks and six days. She reached for the discussion she’d started earlier. 

“Hardy, I don’t want you to be nice to me, because you think that you have to be. That’s not you.” 

“I’m not a complete arsehole.” 

“I know you’re not,” Ellie agreed, pressing a hand to her throbbing temple. “But I want you to stop being weird.” Hardy opened his mouth to protest, and Ellie talked over him. “It’s not going to change my mind, whether you bring me fish and chips every day or suddenly start smiling and greeting everyone like a human being, it’s not going to change anything between us because it’s got _nothing_ to do with you.” She fisted her hands in her coat as the tears finally welled up in her eyes and spilled over along with everything else. 

“It isn’t you. It’s _me_ ,” her voice shook as he stretched an arm over the console. “Hardy, I’m a mess.” 

Tears streaked down her cheeks and Hardy brushed them away. 

“You’re not a mess,” he told her. 

“I am,” she insisted, but she leaned instinctively into his touch and the lightly calloused palm that curved along her jaw. He pushed his fingers into her hair, his thumb rubbing soothing circles at her temple. Hardy might be rubbish with words and smiles, but she had the distinct impression that what he lacked in syllables he made up for with his hands. 

“Miller,” he sighed.

For a moment she thought she saw all the unspoken words in his soft gaze, and then the lorry behind them laid down on their horn and they sprung apart. The cars ahead of them had started moving again. Ellie rested her head against the cold window and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Miller?” 

The car was stopped in front of the hospital, but Ellie had been so lost that she had no idea how much time had passed. It was still raining, the lights smearing and blurring through the film of tears shrouding her gaze. Hardy had pulled up to the west entrance, but when Ellie looked over at him, he shifted gears and searched for a parking spot. It was the only moment of weakness she allowed herself. 

Hardy dug the umbrella out of the boot and held it over them in one hand, his other hand finding the small of her back. Ellie huddled close to him as they neared the building, drawing strength from his quiet presence. 

He folded up the umbrella and followed her through the entrance and into the lifts. They rode up in silence, but with each floor they climbed, Ellie could sense her father fading. The abrasive man, who had loved Lucy and her in his own brusque manner, might have grown distant and angrier after the death of her mother, but he’d still physically been there for her and her sons, especially Fred. 

“Ellie,” Hardy said gently. The lift doors were open and waiting for them. Ellie took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and marched up to the nurse’s station. 

*

Hardy sat in the waiting room and then moved to the hallway at the two hour mark, pacing from one end to the other until Miller’s sister and nephew finally showed up to relieve her. No one noticed him lurking. Miller walked out of the room dazed and red-eyed and shocked to discover him waiting for her. 

“You’re still here?” 

“Aye.”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

“Is he going to be alright?”

Miller glanced over her shoulder and shook her head. She folded her arms over her chest and stared at his feet. 

“It’s too soon to tell, but they weren’t able to get the clot in time. Even if he does pull through, he could be paralyzed, he won’t be able to talk, and they’re not sure if he can even swallow.” Her trembling hand rose to cover her mouth. 

Hardy touched her arm.

“One day at a time,” he said softly. “Daisy called. Beth’s with them, so you don’t have to worry about the boys.”

Some of the tension seeped out of her and she sagged against him. He wrapped an arm around her shaking shoulders until she was able to pull herself together. 

“Can I get you a cuppa?” 

“What did I tell you about being nice to me?” she snapped, sniffling and dabbing at her teary eyes with a Kleenex. 

“It’s what people do, Miller,” he sighed, bumping her shoulder as they walked away from her father’s room. “I googled the social rule book while I was waiting for you.”

Miller pinched his arm, but she wasn’t certain if he was teasing her. A door opened behind them and her hand slid down his forearm to his wrist, dragging him through the waiting room and out to the lifts. They squeezed into the packed lift before the doors closed, their bodies pressed in like sardines with an Irish family that smelled like they’d smuggled in a keg. Miller’s clammy hand slipped from his wrist, her fingers winding around and spreading his palm wide open. Their palms aligned and then one by one, Ellie slotted her fingers into the places between his own. Hardy stroked his thumb over hers until they escaped the lift and the stench of cheap ale. The tea room was right outside and Hardy was forced to let go of her hand to pay for the tea. 

“Thanks,” Miller said, curling her fingers around the cardboard cup. “This might be the worst drink I’ve ever had, but thanks.”

Hardy snorted and their knees knocked together beneath the tiny table.

“I think I would’ve preferred the pub,” she sighed, looking around at the dreary faces mingling with the tired staff members guzzling coffee before the night shift. 

“There wasn’t enough alcohol in the lift for you?” Hardy asked, arching a brow. 

Miller kicked his shin. 

“You’re not getting off that easily, you owe me a trip to the pub,” she reminded him. Hardy took a sip of his tea and waited for her to meet his gaze. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said softly, nudging his foot between hers. Miller’s eyes flickered and she shifted in her chair so that their knees weren’t touching anymore. Hardy dropped his gaze to the tea they kept so hot that you couldn’t taste how awful it actually was. 

“Hardy, now’s not the time…” she trailed off. 

“I know,” Hardy said, dragging a fingernail down the seam of the cup. “But I’m not going anywhere. So if you ever want to… go to the pub… or if you just need someone to talk to…” He cleared his throat and rubbed his burning neck, wishing he hadn’t opened his bloody mouth. She might lose her father for god’s sake, but he wanted her to know that he could be there for her if she wanted him to be.

“I mean if you need help with all of this…” 

Miller reached across the table to touch his coat sleeve.

“Hardy, I know.”

There were tears glimmering in her eyes as she set down the cup and stood up. He pinched the bridge of his nose, silently cursing himself. Suddenly, her hand brushed his shoulder. 

“Are you staying?” she asked, chewing on her lip. 

“If you want me to,” he offered.

“I’m going to sit with him, but I want to check on the boys and grab a change of clothes.”

“Okay,” he said around the lump in his throat. “I’ll be here or if you need me to…” He motioned to the ceiling where her father lay dying, and even though he hadn’t liked Barrett, Hardy was willing to sit there all night holding his cold limp hand if that’s what she wanted from him. 

Miller hesitated, but shook her head. He urged her to text him if anything changed or if she wanted anything. 

“Thanks, Hardy.” She squeezed his shoulder and absentmindedly dropped a kiss in his hair. His breath caught, but Ellie’s mind was already elsewhere. 

Hardy watched her walk away, wondering when he’d started doing it, and why it was so hard for him to stop. 

*

It was three in the morning when Hardy shook Miller awake. He walked her to the door and waited in the foyer until she confirmed that Tom and Fred were sound asleep. Beth had left earlier after ensuring that Tom had the volume turned up on his mobile and would call if he needed anything. 

“I’ll need some time off from work,” she said softly, pulling out her hair tie and shaking out her curls. “If he does pull through we’ll have to find a rehab or a nursing home that’ll take him.”

Hardy clasped her shoulder, rubbing his thumb over her collar bone. 

“All that can wait until tomorrow,” he reminded her. “Get some rest.”

“Do you want a drink?” she blurted out and blushed. “I thought it might help...”

Hardy had to work in less than five hours, but he trailed after her into the kitchen. Unlike him, Miller had at least three different types of liquor under her sink left over from gatherings when Joe, Mark and Danny were still around and the families got together on a regular basis. Apparently Mark had been a decent bar tender before he found someone else to mix his drinks. 

The faded label was peeling on whatever she pulled out, but Hardy thought it might’ve been some top shelf whiskey. Hardy was shocked that Tom hadn’t gotten to it yet, and commented on it. 

“He had a bad experience with whiskey when he was sixteen, poor kid was hungover for three days. It makes him nauseous just knowing it’s there,” she chuckled, pouring a little into each tumbler. 

“Daisy nicks everything.”

“I’m sure Tom will get over it soon, but I’m savouring this while I still can.” 

Miller hopped up onto the counter, resting her head against the cupboard. Hardy leaned his hip against the sink next to her.

“A drink for you father?” he queried, lifting his glass. 

“To Dad,” she toasted him, clinking glasses with him. 

They both took a sip and Hardy was surprised by how smoothly it went down. 

“It’s good,” Miller said noting his reaction and smiling. “It was a gift from my father. He’s got the wrong idea about most stuff, but he’s always been right when it came to whiskey.” Her smile faded and she took another swallow to hide it. Hardy tapped his glass thoughtfully. 

“He couldn’t have been that bad of a father. I’ve seen him with Fred.”

“Fred’s a boy,” Miller pointed out. “He was disappointed when Mum gave him two girls. But you’re right, he was much better with us when we were younger and willing to get our hands dirty. As we got older…” She shrugged, staring into the depths of the amber liquid. 

“He never hit you or your mother.” 

“God, no,” Miller snorted into her glass. “My mother was five feet tall but he was more afraid of her than I was,” she laughed. “He’s a bigoted prick who can bluster on for hours about nothing, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.” She shook her head at Hardy. “I know he irritates you, but honestly Hardy, he’s not a monster. I wouldn’t trust Fred with him if he were one.” 

Hardy didn’t mention Joe, he didn’t have to, it sunk in a half second after she finished her sentence and burned in the pits of their stomachs like the whiskey. He polished off his glass, relishing the smoky aftertaste. 

“Did your father hit you?”

“Not me,” Hardy answered, before mollifying, “Well, not until I tried to stop him from hitting me Mum.” He instantly regretted the admission, and was mortified that he’d let it slip past his loosened lips. It had only happened a few times before his Mum had gotten sick and his father had lost interest in them altogether, but it had left Hardy with a lasting impression of how woman should and shouldn’t be treated. His ‘weakness’ as Tess had coined it had almost derailed his career and was partially responsible for the implosion of his marriage. 

“Hardy,” Miller said softly, her wide eyes shimmering with fresh tears. 

“I should go.” He put the empty tumbler in the sink. “You should get some sleep.” He straightened up and Ellie tipped back her glass. 

“ _Alec_.”

Hardy froze in the doorway. He’d heard her say his name before, usually when they dealt with victims, or when she really wanted to irk him, but tonight it sounded different on her lips. The days were so long now that the kitchen was already brighter than it had been when they first walked inside. Or maybe it was just the light reflecting in Ellie’s eyes, a bit glassy from the alcohol and exhaustion and all the tears that had been shed. 

She slid off the counter and stood in front of him. He was so used to looking at her across a desk and seeing her as his partner that he often forgot how much smaller and feminine she was, until she stood like this, barefoot on the kitchen tiles with her hair loose in waves around her shoulders. She rubbed her bare arms, shivering in the cold light of what might be the first morning without her father.

Hardy took an unconscious step toward her and Ellie met him in the middle of the kitchen.

“D’you want … a hug?” he offered. 

“Dunno.” She cocked her head. “Did you consult the social rule book?” 

“Shut up,” he grumbled as she snaked an arm around his neck.

He had to stoop slightly to accommodate their height difference, and she made a breathy sound that might’ve been a laugh as his beard scraped her jaw. He wound his arms around her, tucking his chin into her shoulder and rubbing her spine. She let out a sigh of contentment and Hardy felt the exact moment she stopped shivering and relaxed against him. 

The feel of her safe in his arms hit him harder than the whiskey. His eyes stung, his throat burned, and the warmth kept spreading through his bloodstream like a drug more potent than alcohol or nicotine. He hugged his daughter whenever she let him, but he couldn’t remember the last time anyone else had hugged him. Zoe hadn’t been very affectionate but they must’ve embraced at some point. And yet Hardy couldn’t recollect anything they’d ever done in their short relationship ever feeling anywhere near what he was experiencing now. His memories of his mother had faded and even his love for Tess was a dull ache ruined by the bad memories.

Hardy had known for some time that he cared deeply about Ellie, but up until this moment, he’d avoided labelling it. He should’ve recognized the warning signs, but it was this bloody hug that put everything into perspective and sent him spiralling. 

“Hardy?”

Hardy had let go of her and was backing out of the kitchen. 

“I should get going. I’ve got to head into work soon.” Swallowing hard, he shoved his trembling hands into his pockets. 

“I can drive you.”

“No, I need the walk,” he insisted. Miller came with him to lock the door behind him. She was already shivering before he let the cool air inside, and Hardy’s heart couldn’t handle it. 

“C’mere.” He pulled her in for another quick hug, trying to get her blood circulating, although he knew it had more to do with her father than anything else. She was clinging to their shared humanity in that way that everyone did when faced with their own mortality. It scared the hell out of him, because if this escalated any further, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop them from doing something stupid.

“Don’t worry about work,” he said, holding her at arm’s length. “Let me handle that part, alright?”

Miller nodded and fussed with his coat collar.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” he promised and bent to kiss her goodbye. He smelled the whiskey on her breath and caught himself at the last second. Ellie was frozen in front of him but her head was still tipped invitingly up toward his.

“Sorry,” he apologized, but the foyer was so narrow and her hand was gripping his coat so tightly that he couldn’t move away. “I’m really sorry, about - about your Dad,” he stammered. 

“I’m sorry you never had a Dad,” she said so softly he almost missed it. “A proper one,” she whispered, her grip slackening as her gleaming eyes darted between his. “It explains a lot.” 

“Tess predicted my weakness would destroy my career one day,” he admitted bitterly, because the irony still struck him today. 

“It’s not a weakness, Alec,” Ellie whispered and bridged the space between them. 

It was like taking a shot of the finest single malt he’d ever had. Her lips were so much softer and warmer than he remembered, but whiskey had never tasted better than it did on her. He closed his eyes, chasing the burn and the smoky aftertaste with his tongue, but the kiss was over before it could even begin. 

A floorboard creaked overhead and Ellie shoved him out the front door. 

“Goodnight, Hardy.”

She shut the door on him and left him blinking in the dawn. Hardy staggered back from the house and touched his still tingling lips. 

He kicked one of the neighbour’s bins over on the way back, and by the time he got to the news stand, he was properly furious with himself for not exercising more self-restraint. Miller was probably already regretting her actions, and if she thought it was weird between them before, this was only going to make everything worse. 

He slapped the paper down in front of the till, impatiently drumming his fingers while he waited for the cashier. 

“What’ll it be, mate?” 

The man waved a hairy arm toward the cigarettes locked up behind the till. 

“Oh, no, I don’t-”

“We’ve got a special,” the man cut him off, stabbing a finger at Hardy’s old brand. 

Hardy eyed the price that had quadrupled since he’d last purchased them, braced himself, and purchased his first cigarette in nineteen years. 

*

Hardy sat on his deck as the sky went from the rosy pink of Miller’s favoured shade of lipstick to an orange that reminded him of her coat. He tossed the carton between his hands but he didn’t risk opening it. Not yet. 

The door slid open behind him and Hardy stuffed the cigarettes into his coat just before his lanky daughter slumped into the deck chair beside him. 

“How’s Ellie?”

He shrugged. 

“And her father?”

“It’s too early to tell, but it’s not looking good,” he sighed. 

She yawned and Hardy reached over to untangle her auburn hair from her hoodie. Daisy blinked sleepily at him as he wiped a clump of what looked like mascara from her cheek. He wondered what she’d been doing when she’d dropped everything to check in on Ellie’s boys for him. 

“You know that I love you,” he told her, because his father never had and maybe Ellie’s hadn’t said it enough.

“Ugh, you’re so soppy.” Daisy rolled her eyes, but she must’ve known what he was thinking, because she leaned in to hug him. 

“I love you too.”

Hardy closed his eyes, savouring the moment for as long as she’d let him. As they separated, the cigarettes fell out of his pocket. Daisy nicked them from him, frowning. 

“Since when do you smoke?” 

“I got them for Ellie’s father,” he fibbed. 

“Well, he’s not in any state to smoke them now, is he?” Daisy peeled off the plastic and opened the carton. She shook one out into her palm. 

“Want one?” she asked casually, but Hardy could tell from the way she held it between her fingers that she’d never smoked. After that subtle reminder of what could happen, he certainly didn’t want her starting today. 

“Ach, you’ve made your point.” He snatched them from her, although he was impressed by her method of persuasion. 

“I’ll get rid of them,” he promised.

Daisy snagged the carton and shook it at him. 

“If I catch you with these again, I’ll ask Ellie to issue you a special ID that says you can’t buy cigarettes.”

“Darlin’ I’m flattered, but I look a wee bit older than eighteen.” 

“Then I trust Ellie will find another way to stop you,” Daisy said pointedly, getting to her feet. She stopped suddenly, tilting her head to consider him. 

“Dad,” she said slowly as if she’d just had an epiphany. “Are you and Ellie…?”

Hardy lifted his brows, waiting expectantly for the dreaded question, but she laughed and shook her head. 

“Never mind.”

She headed back into the house and Hardy was hit with the sinking realization that even his daughter knew Ellie Miller would never have him. 

Hardy automatically brought the remaining cigarette to his lips, but he couldn’t have one without a spark. Tossing it aside, he dragged his hands down his face and tried not to think of whiskey, smoke, and the woman who had become his latest addiction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I meant for this story to be four parts, one for each season, but I’m entertaining five or six because my characters tend to surprise me and this chapter didn’t go as planned. Other than Hardy losing his mother at a young age and really disliking his father, I have no idea what’s canon. I didn’t read the book or short stories, but some fans have this particular storyline as their head canon, and considering why I started this story, it fit. So I’m crediting whoever came up with that theory and working it into Hardy’s background. There won’t be any flashbacks to his childhood or anything like that, but it may be mentioned in the future. I promise Alec and Ellie do get together in the end, but they’re human and there might be some bumps and some angst along the way.


End file.
